The woman, experiencing labor pains, called her husband. He, holding his mistress in one arm and his phone in the other, coldly replied, “If it’s a girl, I don’t want to raise her; she’ll only be a burden on the house… Go live with your parents!” Then he hung up.

“What are you talking about? I bought this house.”

“With funds from her family’s trust,” the attorney replied evenly. “You signed a prenuptial agreement five years ago. Complete separation of assets. In the event of proven infidelity or emotional abandonment, she retains exclusive rights to the residence and any shared business interests funded by her inheritance.”

Jason felt the blood drain from his face.

“Infidelity? You can’t prove anything.”

The attorney opened his briefcase and handed him several glossy photographs.

Jason recognized the hotel suite in Aspen instantly. In one photo, he and Brittany were stepping out onto the balcony together. In another, they were unmistakably close.

“Mrs. Walker hired a private investigator months ago,” Mr. Reynolds said. “She suspected the truth. And last night’s phone call—your instruction for her to ‘go live with her parents’ while she was in labor—was recorded. The judge signed an emergency eviction order this morning.”

Jason stood frozen.

In a single day, the house, the company accounts, the comfortable life he had taken for granted—it was all slipping away.

A black SUV pulled up at the curb.

The rear window rolled down.